


We Didn't Start the Fire

by iwilltry_tocarryon



Category: Revolution (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwilltry_tocarryon/pseuds/iwilltry_tocarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, technically WE didn’t start it, Bass started it. (short little Niles ficlet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Didn't Start the Fire

Fire blazing from inside his kitchen window, sent Miles into a panic, not even bothering to put the truck in park as it idled in his driveway.

Flinging the door open, he quickly jogged over to where Bass was standing, roughly scrubbing at the scruff on his face.

“Bass, what the hell!”

It was an exclamation, not a question, but Bass felt compelled to answer anyway.

He held his hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back, “listen it’s not as bad as you think—“

“Not as bad as I think,” Miles parroted the words in an incredulous tone. He dramatically swung his hand towards the house, “my fucking house is on fire.”

“It’s only the kitchen drama queen, besides it was an accident. And you’re lucky my ass didn’t roast in there,” he narrowed his gaze.

Miles snorted, “by the time I’m through with you, you’re gonna wish you had been inside. That fire is going to see tame compared to me. Shit,” he slapped his forehead, “I just bought a shit ton of beer. Ah hell,” he exhaled loudly.

“Is that really the most important thing right now? Some things never change.”

Miles started to snap at the person, but turning his head, his eyes locked onto a set of intense brown ones that he would know anywhere.

“Nora Clayton,” he chuckled, looking at her adorned in turnout gear.

“I’m surprised you’re the one helping to put the fire out,” considering how I screwed you over and the fact that you practically hate me. He didn’t say the words, but she knew from his tone what he was implying.

In a sickly sweet voice, she smiled, “yeah well, if it was up to me, I would’ve let your whole house go up in flames and danced around it while I roasted marshmallows. But that doesn’t seem too professional…and I don’t have any marshmallows on me.”

“Plus, they pay me to do this stuff,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Next time this idiot,” she jerks her thumb towards Bass, “forgets to take his food out of the plastic and goes to do, whatever the hell he was doing for 30 minutes, don’t call us. Just put him out of his misery and bury him somewhere no one will find him.”


End file.
